


Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

by TheLoonyMoony



Series: Love itself shall slumber on [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders, New Year's Eve, Peter's kinda shoved to the background, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoonyMoony/pseuds/TheLoonyMoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve at the Potters'.</p><p>An interlude. Of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics, courtesy of the amazing The Beatles.

** Part 2: The Potters **

December 31, 1980.

 

James sat and stared, chin resting on the heels of both palms, lower lip unattractively jutting out, his glasses on a lazy but determined journey down his nose, as he watched Lily dash about. One minute she was straightening the mismatched cushions on the pathetic lump of a couch; right the next instant she sniffed the air, wrinkled her nose and rushed to the kitchen; soon enough she ran out of there and up the stairs, spatula still in hand, because Harry had apparently woken up and was wailing and demanding attention. _Ah, like father like son_ James thought with an indulgent smile. Mini Marauder, as he called Harry – though behind Lily’s back Padfoot had taken to calling him The Devil’s Own Sprog. Fondly, of course. Mind still half immersed in wondrous thoughts of broken toy brooms and chubby little fingers that curled around his thumb and squeezed it and squeezed something unnamed in his heart, he looked up at the sound of footsteps down the staircase. There’s Lily again, in all her harried and hassled glory – Harry in her arms brandishing aforementioned spatula like it was Godric Gryffindor’s very own sword – her face slightly pink and incredibly focused, sweat glistening on her furrowed brow, green eyes wide, hair sticking out in all directions like red wildfire. James wondered for the millionth time how his world had ever made sense before, without Lily’s flaming beauty ensconcing it? Where would he have even been without her – this fiery, passionate, compassionate woman... _no_ , James’ mind stuttered and stumbled a bit, _Goddess_.

 

“If you’re done being a heap of uselessness, do you mind getting off your posterior and helping me out a bit?” Lily aimed at James, thrusting Harry out for him, tapping her feet impatiently and looking uncannily like McGonagall.

 

“I love it when you pamper me with such sweet words,” smirked James, as Harry was transferred into his outstretched arms, all drool and unknowledgeable gurgles.

 

“Oh ha-ha, James Potter cracked a joke.” Lily rolled her eyes and stalked off to the kitchen, followed closely by her little entourage.

 

“I still don’t get why you’re so worked up. It’s only Padfoot, Moony and Wormy. Look, we can just shove Harry at them and they’ll be occupied for the next couple of – OW!” One of Harry’s pudgy, flailing fists had hit James squarely in one eye.

 

Lily pressed her lips together in a way that tried to pass off as exasperation, but James knew meant she was suppressing laughter. “Because it’s New Year’s Eve and I’d like to pretend we don’t live _completely_ like cavemen.”

 

“Like they’re any better? They are animals. Literally. Hah!” James snickered at his own joke.

Lily rolled her eyes again, briefly wondering if marrying James Potter came with the side effect of eventually getting her eyeballs permanently stuck to her lids.

 

“You never appreciate my wit,” James whined, “Sirius always appreciates my wit.”

 

“And I’m sure, deep inside he’ll always be your favourite girl. Oh how I ache.” Lily deadpanned.

 

Ever the mature one, James stuck his tongue out. Then scrunched up his nose as a vile smell permeated the air, accompanied by smoke from the muggle microwave oven. Harry let out a whimper and rubbed at eyes that had begun to water.

 

“Oh God,” Lily blanched, pained eyes on the oven door, “why don’t you take Harry out of here while I clean out the lasagne...er, what maybe used to be lasagne?”

 

James gave a strangled war cry as he fled and Lily watched two identical messy black heads bob up and down and out of the kitchen in haste. Then steeling herself, she set about tackling the black burnt mess, all the while muttering about _cooking, my arse_ and _why do I even bother_.

 

                                                              -----------------------------------------------------

 

Harry had reclaimed his seat on his toy broom and was zooming about cackling madly and causing minor accidents in the living-room-turned-apparent-warzone. James was consigned to running behind him and tidying up after the path of destruction lying in Harry’s wake, when the Floo blazed emerald green.

 

“You know what, Lily?” James panted, “All this cleanliness and tidiness is only going to confuse poor Pads. He’ll probably kill off what few brain cells he has left, wondering if he is in the right house.”

 

Lily arched an eyebrow and opened her mouth, just as Sirius spun into focus in their fireplace, thrashed his way out, looked up from dusting himself off, and visibly paled.

 

“MERLIN’S BALLS IS THIS THE RIGHT HOUSE?! Mrs Turner I swear to – oh.”

 

“Mrs Turner?” asked James, followed by Lily’s “Do we even want to know?”

 

“Ah. I remember the story,” came Remus’ voice somewhere from behind a now-relieved Sirius, “very nice old lady, nice cats – budge over Sirius, will ya – nice bathroom, which Sirius had somehow managed to Floo right into; nice skill with the _Furnunculus_. The boils stayed for _days_.”

 

As Lily and James all but doubled over in laughter and James managed to choke out something about Narcissa and Fourth year, Sirius strode out to Harry with the remnants of his pride.

 

“Whatever, I’ll just talk to the one person here who fully appreciates me.” Sirius took his Godson into his arms, pecking his cheek and getting the child’s spittle all over his mouth. Harry responded enthusiastically, gurgling loudly and non-sensibly, no doubt in complete understanding of Sirius’ pains, while slobbering over him generously.

 

The Floo blazed up again and Peter’s head peeked out of the flames.

 

“Petey!” James bounded over and knelt in front of the fireplace, “where’s, uh, the rest of you?”

 

“My mum is sick Prongs,” Peter looked apologetic, “I think I should spend New Year’s with her. Don’t be mad, okay?”

 

James sat up straighter, scrunched up his face and opened his mouth, signalling the beginning of what is affectionately known in their group as the James Potter Speech Of The Honourable Marauder Way Of Life.

 

“Of course, Peter,” Lily edged in – poor Peter looked so scared and twitchy anyway, “we completely understand. Don’t we, James?”

 

“We do? Oh. We do.” James pouted.

 

“And there’s always next year!” Sirius returned with a grin.

 

Sympathetic wishes were passed on for Peter’s mother, promises to catch up soon were made, goodbyes exchanged, Harry babbled some more, and Peter left.

 

 

                                                              -----------------------------------------------------

 

 

_“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid,_

_You were made to go out and get her;_

_The minute you let her under your skin,_

_Then you begin to make it better.”_

 

“The food,” Sirius remarked with the kind of devotion he reserves only for calories and dungbombs, “is AMAZING.”

 

At this point, James thought it wise to make a joke about Floo-ed in food and red-headed beauties who set kitchens on fire, and was rewarded with a whack upside his head, but accompanied by a slight smirk that meant _okay_ , _maybe you’re a little bit adorable_.

 

“Merlin, Prongs,” Sirius pulled a face, “stop making googly eyes at Lily, the rest of us are still here and trying to eat.”

 

“Then don’t bloody look at my googly eyes,” James threw back, “and go make googly eyes of your own at your boyfriend.”

 

Remus choked on his food and looked away hurriedly, and if James had been paying attention, he would have noticed the sudden discomfiture in Sirius’ face, noticed the way his chair sat uncharacteristically angled away from Remus’.

 

“So. This song,” Sirius managed, “pretty good.”

 

Remus cleared his throat, “The Beatles. And not the kind of beetles you put in Wit-Sharpening Potions.”

 

“One of my favourites,” Lily smiled.

 

“Ah ha!” James leered at Lily, “Is that because it was playing the first time we, you know – OW Lily!”

 

Laughter flowed like rich, dark wine, warming the December night. In the land of friendship and love, all problems, the War, every murky trouble seemed a vague thing in the far distance. They didn’t matter; all that did was just those who fit around one rickety dinner table. 12 o’clock struck and shrieks of _Happy New Year!_ filled the room, followed by Lily’s hurried _ssh! Harry is sleeping._ Hugs and kisses were exchanged; for some, a testament to the tender affection of years; for some an attempt to mend broken bridges, or at least try and overlook the wreck that loomed large—surely even trust-debilitating monsters deserve love, if only for one broken moment?

 

 

                                                              -----------------------------------------------------

 

“Do you _have_ to leave? You could just stay over, you know?” James said as Lily nodded in agreement. Sirius held a handful of Floo powder, hand awkwardly suspended mid-air.

 

“We, well,” Remus floundered, for once in his life wanting to get away from his friends, from it all; for once in his life knowing that honesty wouldn’t be the best policy, “there’s just a lot of, ah, stuff to do and –“

 

“Oho! Stuff to do! Welcoming the new year with a bang, and all that!” James winked largely and lasciviously.

 

While Lily swatted James’ arm and Remus’ face flared red as he flailed about for words, Sirius drew James in for a rough hug, showering Floo powder on him in the process.

 

“Listen,” he whispered urgently in James’ ear, “the spy Dumbledore mentioned—”

 

“Nonono,” James pulled away and shook his head, a soppy smile on his face, “today, we don’t speak — we don’t even _think_ such thoughts!”

 

Only Lily noticed Remus frown quizzically for a moment, before his face seemed to register something and his always-carefully-maintained expression seemed to break a little. Sirius looked dejectedly up at James, then finally threw in the powder and stepped in the fireplace, muttering the address, rotating on the spot and vanishing in moments.

 

Lily looked worried, pulling at Remus’ sleeve before he could Floo away, “Remus. Is everything okay?”

 

“Oh, _peachy_ ”, he smiled, and turned back to disappear in the midst of green flames before Lily saw his face crumble and through it saw his heart do the same, into a million tiny pieces.

 

 

 

 

_“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain_

_Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.”_

 

                                                              -----------------------------------------------------


End file.
